Reckless
by LumosLyra
Summary: Hermione is sentenced to three months in a rehabilitation facility following a serious bout of reckless behavior. Dramione. One-Shot. Rated M: Explicit Scenes, Cursing, Alcoholism.


**Reckless**

 **Synopsis:** Hermione is sentenced to three months in a rehabilitation facility following a serious bout of reckless behavior. Dramione. One-Shot. Rated M: Explicit Scenes, Cursing, Alcoholism.

 **A/N:** Written literally in one shot over a few hours. I hope you enjoy!

….

 **reckless** /ˈrekləs/

 _adjective_

utterly unconcerned about the consequences of some action; without caution; careless (usually followed by of): to be reckless of danger.

characterized by or proceeding from such carelessness: reckless extravagance

….

Poised. Organized. Cautious. Meticulous. Guarded. Compassionate. Studious. Brave. Brilliant. Determined. Reckless. Of all of the words that had ever been used to describe Hermione Jean Granger, _reckless_ had certainly never been one of them. As her thirtieth birthday neared, the word _reckless_ had been added to the lengthy list of her qualities, though she would never have admitted it to herself. She had stopped reading the headlines, insisting they were a vindictive ploy by Rita Skeeter to frame her in a poor light following the war.

 _Has the Brain of the Golden Trio Finally Lost her Marbles?_

 _Gigglejuice Granger: A Cautionary Tale_

 _Hotheaded Hermione: From Hero to Harlot_

….

The thumping music of the nightclub pounded into her very soul as Hermione Jean Granger, war hero, knocked back her fifth shot of whiskey. Her lips curled in a dreamy smile, words slurring slightly as she thanked the witch behind the bar. She was unsteady on her feet as she stumbled out onto the dance floor, her tight black dress hugging her curves as she swayed in time to the music. A pair of arms snaked around her waist as she danced, fingertips inching closer to her thighs with each passing beat of the music. She arched her back into the person behind her, a soft moan escaping her plump lips. She could almost taste his musky scent as she ground her hips against his in time to the music. It didn't matter who he was, how old he was, or whether he was a muggle or a wizard, she told herself she needed a sweet release tonight.

He pulled her from the dance floor and pushed her out of the nightclub through a side door and up against a brick wall in the dark alley. His lips locked with hers as he clumsily pushed her dress up and pulled his own trousers down. If the stories about her were true, he knew she wouldn't be wearing underwear. He slammed his length into her causing a swift moan to escape her lips. He fucked her hard and fast against the wall of the night club, her legs wrapped haphazardly around his waist. Within a few short minutes, he had shot his seed into her and dropped her to the ground, sweaty, burning, and without release. He sauntered down the alley, zipping his trousers, clearly unconcerned he had left a woman far-gone in drink, half-naked, with their mingled juices running down her legs in a dark alleyway outside of a night club. "Granger, you fucking slut."

….

Hermione's head seared with pain as the first rays of the sunlight invaded her room. She covered her head with a pillow as the room started spinning around her. At least she had woken up in her own room… this time. She jumped up suddenly, knocking into several pieces of furniture as she ran for the loo. She leaned over the sink as the aftermath of her adventures last night left her stomach and slid down the drain. She heaved, coughed, sputtered, and choked on the hot vomit, thinking it would never stop. When it finally did, she sloppily splashed her face with water and rinsed her mouth out with mouthwash.

She opened her eyes and stared at herself in the mirror. She looked like shit. Her brown curls were frazzled and unkempt. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Her face was red and splotchy from the reappearance of yesterday's dinner, five shots of whiskey, two shots of fireball, two vodka martinis, and a margarita. Her once tanned skin was sallow and almost sagging in spots. Her make-up was smeared and one of her earrings was missing.

Hermione stumbled from the bathroom and had just climbed back into her bed when there was a loud banging on the door to her flat.

 _Fuck_.

"HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER, YOU LET ME IN THIS MINUTE OR I SWEAR ON SALAZAR'S TESTICLES I WILL RIP THIS DOOR DOWN"

 _Double fuck._

Hermione took a swig of tequila from a bottle deposited near her bed for bravery and stumbled over the door. She balanced herself against the wall and opened the door, a tall fiery redheaded woman storming through the small opening, slamming the door behind her.

"Hi Gin." Hermione said meekly, rubbing her temples. _Too loud._

"DON'T YOU 'HI GIN' ME." Ginevra Weasley was all but breathing fire as she stormed through Hermione's flat.

"I just…"

"YOU FUCKING PROMISED ME." Ginny's perfectly manicured fingernail poked Hermione square in the chest. Her cheeks and ears were burning as they usually did when her Weasley temper flared.

"I know… but…" Hermione slowly backed away from the enraged woman, managing to trap herself in a corner.

"NO FUCKING BUTS, HERMIONE."

Hermione held her head in her hands, rubbing her temples. Did she have to be this loud? It was too early for loud.

"Gin, calm…"

"DON'T TELL ME TO FUCKING CALM DOWN! HOW DARE YOU. HOW FUCKING DARE YOU?"

Hermione winced before her eyes flashed open, covering her mouth with one of her hands and making another run for the loo. She collapsed on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, dry heaving.

Ginny followed her, continuing to screech several octaves higher than her normal speaking voice. "IF YOU CAN'T LEARN HOW TO CONTROL YOURSELF, WE ARE THROUGH GRANGER. THROUGH. DONE. FINISHED." Ginny threw a copy of The Daily Prophet on the floor of the bathroom, bearing the headline: _Wild-Child War Hero Caught in Compromising Position Outside of Nightclub_

Hermione didn't know how long she had been laying on the cold tile floor, but she knew Ginny had taken her exit with another slam of her front door. Hermione fumbled around for her wand. With a swish and a murmured incantation, steam filled the bathroom as the marble tub filled with water. Without even shedding her clothing from the night before, Hermione climbed unceremoniously into the tub, sinking under the warm water until just her eyes and nose were above the surface.

"Hermione Jean Granger of Number 19 Rosewood Circle, Heathgate, Hampstead, rise before the Wizengamot. Due to your reckless actions, this court has determined you are a danger to yourself. You are hereby sentenced to three months at the Hohenheim Rehabilitation Center where you will undergo mandatory detoxification and counseling. Your case will be reviewed at the end of the three-month period."

 _Fucking great._

….

Four white walls. White tile floors. One bed with white sheets and a thin blue quilt. One small wooden dresser. One armchair covered in faded floral fabric. One small window overlooking a tiny garden. One shabby bedside table. One stool. It was too clean, too sterile, too devoid of life.

"Your wand, Ms. Granger."

Hermione set down her small suitcase on the too white, too clean tile floor and pulled her wand from her jacket. Vinewood. 10 ¾ inches. Dragon Heart String. She thrust it into the healer's hand, relinquishing her wand with an aggravated sigh.

 _Fuck._

"You've made a good choice, Ms. Granger."

"I'm not here by choice. My life is fine."

The healer in robes that were freshly pressed chuckled. "We will see you in the hall for luncheon. It's served at half past eleven." With that, he turned on his heels and closer the door to her room.

 _Room. Cell. Prison. Rehab._

 _Fuck._

….

Hemione felt like shit. There was no other way to describe it. Complete, utter shit. She hadn't had a drink in days. She hadn't slept in what felt like days. She was going absolutely mad and she fucking hated it.

She sat in the faded floral armchair near the window chewing on a fingernail. She had refused to leave the room since she had entered the Hohenheim Rehabilitation Center three days ago. They sent her bland, tasteless food on trays with only water to drink. She left the majority of them untouched. She would've sucked Voldemort's cock for a shot of whiskey, tequila, moonshine, whatever. She didn't care. Anything to take away this blinding headache.

She heard the quiet murmur of voices outside of her room. _Assholes._ They were talking quietly and were still being too loud. Hermione hugged her knees to her chest and stared out of the window. Thank Merlin it was raining outside and the sun wasn't out. She couldn't handle the sunshine.

There was a quiet knock at her door. "Ms. Granger."

"GO AWAY". Fuck. Even her own voice was too loud. Everything was just too goddamn loud.

The door pushed open and the healer who had confiscated her wand on the first day entered the room, followed by a tall figure in black robes. His hands were resting casually in the pockets of his trousers. Not a single silvery-blonde hair was out of pace. His facial features were angular, familiar and his eyes were the color of the thundering clouds outside.

She could see his mouth moving, but the droning voice of the healer who had confiscated her wand fell on deaf ears. The ringing in her ears had started the moment she laid eyes on him. Before she knew it, she was alone with him and she suddenly felt claustrophobic. The room seemed smaller. The walls were closing in.

"Malfoy." She hissed, the sound of his name was almost like a curse.

His lips curled into a smirk. "I'm your assigned counselor. Welcome to Hohenheim, Granger."

"Get the fuck out." She hurled the words at him with all of the anger she could muster. Her head continued to pound, ears ringing.

"No can do, Granger. You're assigned to see me for…" Draco Malfoy glanced down at a clipboard in his hand, "at least one hour a day." He flashed her a smile. _Prick._

"Like I would fucking talk to you, ferret. Get out of my room."

Draco stepped further into the room, leaning against the wall. "You look awful, Granger. Are you eating?" Draco glanced over at the tray of food which was completely untouched.

"Fuck you." She muttered, turning her attention to the thunderstorm flashing outside.

Draco chuckled. "Let it out, Granger. I've been a certified trauma counselor for the past three years and a healer before that. My feathers are not so easily ruffled."

Hermione ignored him, staring out of the window, drawing her knees to her chest.

His voice was calm and oddly compassionate. "I know that your stay with us is court ordered and that you are not here by choice. Your case will be reviewed at the end of your stay and it will be determined at that point whether you will be released or if your stay will continue. You're broken, Granger. Just like everyone in here. No one comes here without good reason. It's my job to help you work through it. I'm not going to give up on you."

Draco straightened his back, turning towards the door. "Whether you like it or not, we start tomorrow, Granger."

….

Hermione sat in the steaming bathtub, her dark, curly hair piled on top of her head. She was up to her ears in the bubbly, steaming water. Her headaches from the past several weeks finally starting to subside. Draco was perched on a stool outside of the door to the small bathroom, giving her some semblance of privacy. It was time for her counseling session and she was attempting to avoid him as she had done every other day this week and last week. She had tried ignoring him, sleeping, keeping her nose in a book, and now a bath.

"I don't need your help."

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't."

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

Their exchanges consistently started off this way. He hadn't really gotten her to say much, but this didn't surprise him. He had followed her story over the past several years and had personally requested to be assigned to her case once he realized she was staying at Hohenheim. It had taken some convincing, but Healer Vaughn eventually agreed.

If the papers were to be believed, her path of self-destruction happened after a particularly nasty, publicized break-up. Weasley had supposedly left her at the altar for some blonde floozy. From there, the reckless behavior had started. It started innocently enough with grabbing drinks with her friends, going out to night clubs and dancing her cares away. She started showing up late to work, often hung over, sometimes still buzzed. He hadn't heard that she had experimented with any potions or substances beyond mundane and magical alcohol, but he wouldn't have been surprised to hear if she had. She was soon discovered in several compromising positions – several one night stands, showing up to work completely knackered. The last straw was when she had been photographed having sex in a very public place, very drunk, with two different men just hours apart followed by an accidental explosion when her emotions had gotten the best of her. She had ended up in St. Mungo's several times with alcohol poisoning before that event. Her best friend had turned her in to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement because she was out of control. They had taken her into custody, determined she was a danger to herself, and had sentenced her to three months at the Hohenheim Rehabilitation Center.

"You have to talk to me about something, Granger. Whatever you want to talk about. I don't know… what's your favorite color?" Draco said through the closed door.

That had caught her off guard. _Why the fuck did he want to know her favorite color?_ There couldn't be any harm in telling him that. Maybe if she said something, he would go away.

"Green." She dipped her head beneath the water, not waiting for a reply.

Draco smirked. "Green, huh. I would've guessed red or gold given the fact that you were sorted into Gryffindor."

"Fuck you, Malfoy." _There it was._

"Which shade of green?" He asked, innocently.

 _What? Why did this even matter?_ Hermione stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in a white fluffy towel, droplets of water running down her legs. She opened the door, clad only in the towel, her brown hair stilled piled high on top of her head, a new idea forming in her head of how to get him to go away.

"The color of freshly mown grass on a summer day." She muttered, crossing the room, making sure to swish her hips, alluringly.

Draco couldn't help but watch her cross the room. There was something about the way she moved that caused a distinct warmth to spread deep within his abdomen. She turned to face him and let the towel fall to her feet, completing exposing her naked body.

Draco stared at her naked form, every curve and dimple of her flesh fully visible. Godric's teeth, she was stunning. His mouth was hanging open for half of a second before he regained his composure and turned around, averting his eyes. He could feel her eyes boring into his soul. "Like what you see, Malfoy... or are you too afraid to look?" Her voice was soft, sultry, dripping with sex. He heard her cross the room, coming closer to him, her hand settling on his shoulder. He was suddenly intensely aware she was standing behind him, moving closer with every passing second as her naked flesh pressed into his back, her hand snaking over his chest.

Draco swallowed the knot that had formed in his throat and stood up, walking swiftly out of the door.

Hermione smirked, picking her towel back up off of the floor. _Checkmate, Malfoy._

….

Draco awoke with a start, sitting up in his bed, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. She had started invading his dreams, clearly evidenced by the hardness of the erection between his legs. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, trying to get the images of Granger out of his mind. He couldn't let himself give into the fantasy, she was his patient. He grunted, forcing himself out of bed and into a cold shower. It didn't matter that it was two o'clock in the morning. He had to get her out of his head.

….

Hermione had been at Hohenheim for exactly one month when a starry-eyed young witch waltzed into her room, humming to herself. Hermione found it intensely irritating.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Granger. My name is Counselor Serenity Ellingham. I will be taking over your case for a few days." She smiled kindly at Hermione, taking a seat on the stool near Hermione's bed.

Hermione scowled at the woman from the armchair by the window. "Where's Malfoy?"

"Counselor Malfoy has requested a few days off." The young witch reported, tentatively.

"Good. Go away."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Ms. Granger." The young counselor smiled at Hermione. "I've reviewed your case notes. I think it might be best if we start at the beginning. Let's talk about the Mr. Weasley."

"Fuck him and fuck you."

"So, you clearly harbor some resentment towards Mr. Weasley." She pressed.

"Are you an idiot? The fuckwad left me at the altar for some trollop from Wales. Resentment is too nice of a word." Hermione fired the words at the woman with all of the hatred she could muster.

"A better term would be?" The young counselor kept her face and voice neutral.

"Animosity. Outrage. Malevolence. Malice. Enmity. Loathing. Take your pick. He can rot in hell for all I care." Hermione was seething with anger, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. If she'd had her wand she would've exploded the dresser into a pile of splinters, but she didn't. The next thing she knew her hand was searing with pain, her knuckles were bloody, and there was a slight indention in one of the perfect white walls. She was crumpled on the floor, her brown curls contrasting with the clean, white, tiles.

"I think we're done for today, Ms. Granger." The counselor said with cold indifference, hiding her shock at Hermione's sudden explosion. "I will send someone in to patch up your knuckles."

 _At least Malfoy would've shown a reaction._

 _Fuck. Get out of my head, Malfoy._

….

"I don't need your help."

"I'm not going anywhere, Granger."

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

Hermione was in the bathtub and Draco was once again perched on the stool outside of the bathroom. Malfoy was back from whatever had caused him to take a sabbatical. At least that wretched woman was gone. With Malfoy at least she knew exactly what she was up against.

"I've read Counselor Ellingham's notes. Let's talk about the "trollop" as you called her. Do you know her name?" Draco rested his head back against the bathroom door.

"No, I don't fucking know her name." Hermione grunted, bubbles forming in the water around her nostrils.

"You curse a lot, Granger. Does it help?"

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

Draco chuckled, goading her on. "I recall your vocabulary being more verbose when we were in school. What was it you called me in third year?"

"You're still a foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach and if I were out there right now, I would punch you in the fucking face. Piss off, Malfoy."

Draco absently rubbed the spot where her first had made contact with his face in their third year, laughing. "There it is. I know you're not angry with me Granger, you're angry with Weasley. Whatever he did to you, he really left you a mess. Let's talk about it."

Hermione felt her skin blistering with anger. She didn't want to fucking talk about it. She wanted a god damn drink, but those were absolutely forbidden to her here. She stood up from the tub too quickly suddenly slipping and falling over the side, sliding across the white tiles with a shriek.

"Granger?" Draco pressed her ear to the door. "Granger, answer me. Are you okay?" He sounded genuinely concerned from behind the door, straining to hear a response.

Hermione moaned, trying to focus her eyes, feeling herself slipping into unconsciousness. The room was spinning around her. It was almost like being drunk.

"Granger, I'm coming in." Draco moved swiftly from his perch and threw open the door. He saw her laying on the floor, a tangle of limbs with a small puddle of blood forming beneath her when she had hit her head on the tiles. "Godric's teeth!" he swore, rushing to her side. He covered her naked form with a soft, white towel and checked the wound. There was a small gash above her eyebrow. With a wave of his wand, Draco murmured a healing spell, watching the blood begin to clot and the wound begin to close. Draco picked up her small form from the floor, cradling her against his chest as he carried her to the bed. He left her wrapped in the towel and covered her with the blanket.

He tentatively reached out with his hand and stroked her cheek with his thumb. Her eyelashes fluttered and he jerked his hand away.

Barely audible, Hermione murmured, "Thank you, Malfoy."

….

Draco paced back and forth in his office, his brow furrowed.She had managed to get under his skin again, but this time it didn't seem to be on purpose.

 _What the fuck was that, Draco? She's your patient. She's under your care and you can't fucking get her out of your head._

Over the past several weeks, the witch he'd loathed during their days at Hogwarts was slowly creeping into his head and into his heart. She still refused to talk to him about anything and Counselor Ellingham had gotten more out of her in two days than he had in a month.

Since he'd become a trauma counselor, a patient had never affected him in the way she had. He was a thorough professional and all relationships with his patients had been purely that. Professional.

He felt the familiar warmth in his abdomen as a vision of her flashed before his eyes. He saw the curve of her hips, the dimples of her abdomen, her shapely thighs, her toned arms, her pert breasts, the contour of her sex. She had stood there so confidently before him in her ploy to make him uncomfortable. He had given her exactly what she had wanted that day. He exited the room in a panic.

….

"You asked for this case, Draco. What do you mean you want to Ellingham to take it over?" Healer Vaughn, Draco's immediate superior, furrowed his brow in frustration. He'd never seen the young wizard this flustered.

"To continue would be… unprofessional." Draco reported, sneering slightly. "She's under my skin, Vaughn and I can't shake it." He rested his elbows on his knees, cradling his head. "I'm not doing her any good. She won't talk to me. Ellingham got more out of her in two days than I did in a month."

"I've never seen you like this, Draco." The older wizard laid a hand on Draco's shoulder. "You're one of our best. The vast majority of your patients show improvement in record time. What's different about her?"

"She was my rival at school and I was an asshole to her for seven years. I thought I could show her how much I had changed since the war. Maybe bring a little closure for us both by taking her case." Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, there was no use in hiding anything from Vaughn, he was exceptionally perceptive.

"I see." The older wizard squeezed Draco's shoulder reassuringly. "We'll pass the case to Ellingham. You're free to visit Ms. Granger if you choose."

"That's breaking protocol, Sir." Draco murmured.

"I think we can make an exception, Draco. Clearly some wounds run deeper than others."

….

"You're late." Hermione scowled as she heard the door open, fully expecting to see Draco walk through the door. She had been wondering what they would fight about today. It was oddly calming, fighting with Draco. He would try and get her to talk, she would tell him to fuck off, and they would continue. It was a odd normal, but it had been their normal for the past month or so.

"I assure you, Ms. Granger, I am precisely on time." The raven-haired witch with sparkling green eyes walked through the door.

"Where's Malfoy?" She questioned, sneering at Ellingham. Hermione was sitting in the faded floral-patterned armchair by the window as she did every afternoon.

"He's passed your case on to me, permanently. Shall we get started, then?"

"What do you mean he _passed my case on?_ " Hermione spat, anger rising to her cheeks, her hands balling into fists. "He swore to me he wouldn't give up on me and yet here we are. That fucking liar. I know he was a sodding twat."

Ellingham held her hand up. "We're not here to talk about Counselor Malfoy. We're here to continue our discussion about why you are here. You've two months left, Ms. Granger, before your court date and your progress has been minimal at best."

"I don't want to talk to you." _Nosey_ _Cunt._

"When did the reckless behavior begin? How did it start?"

"I said I don't want to fucking to talk you." Hermione was standing in front of her chair, her knuckles turning white as she desperately clenched her fists. Her face was flushed with anger, desperation, frustration, and resentment. She looked ready to explode.

"What did it start with? Alcohol? Potions? Powders?"

Draco stood in the door way, his arms crossed over his chest, watching the scene. "Ellingham, stop. Give us a minute."

"Counselor Malfoy, I believe Ms. Granger's case has been…"

Draco abruptly cut her off. "Out Ellingham. You're not going to get anything out of Granger. Not when she's like this. Give us a minute."

Counselor Ellingham huffed and exited the room. She was unsure of what to think. Malfoy had passed her case on, yet here he was interfering. She contemplated speaking to Vaughn about it. Perhaps Draco was right, maybe she had pushed Ms. Granger a bit too far today.

….

"Let it out, Granger." Draco walked towards the furious witch across the room. Without warning Hermione was simultaneously beating her fists against his chest, sobbing, screaming at the top of her lungs, and cursing at him. Draco was suddenly grateful he'd cast a silencing charm before entering the room.

"YOU'RE A FUCKING ASSHOLE, YOU KNOW THAT?"

"Yes, Granger, we've established that." He pulled his arms around the screeching witch, remaining calm as she continued to pummel his chest with her fists.

"YOU CAN'T JUST TAKE ME ON AND THEN DROP ME." Hermione was seething, hot white tears running down her cheeks.

"I didn't. But you've also not given me a chance to explain." It took all of Draco's training to continue to remain calm. He knew she needed this – to scream, yell, and use someone as a punching bag. She'd been burying her anger at Weasley for far too long.

"YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T GIVE UP ON ME AND LOOK WHAT YOU DID. YOU PASSED ME OFF TO THAT AWFUL WOMAN. YOU'RE NO BETTER THAN RON!"

With those words, she went limp in his arms, too defeated to fight anymore. Draco cradled her in his arms for what seemed like hours. He stroked her back, tenderly, tracing soft circles over her spine with his fingertips. Her breathing had slowed, her tears at ceased, and her body had begun to relax.

"I dropped your case because I've developed something in the way of feelings for you. It would have been inappropriate to continue as your counselor. I'm not giving up on you, Hermione" Draco said quietly after she had been calm for a while.

Hermione's fingertips grasped desperately at the collar of his robes as she pressed her lips to his in a hard, almost hungry kiss. Her lips parted as his tongue met hers, dancing together. His teeth found her bottom lip, nipping persistently, yet gently. Draco's hand went to the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. She shifted in his lap straddling him, her heart pounding in her chest, throwing her arms around his neck. As they briefly broke apart, both breathing heavily, Hermione rested her forehead against his.

"Draco, I need this. I need you." Her panting breaths carried the words to his ear.

"I know." He slipped his hands beneath her shirt, his fingertips sending pulsing shivers up her spine as she nipped playfully at his neck. She lifted her arms, allowing him to pull her shirt off over her head. He expertly snapped the clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts. Hermione pressed her chest against his, placing soft kisses along his jawline as he trailed his fingertips over her back.

As she rose up onto her knees, Draco nipped at her collarbone, peppering kisses down her collar bone. His hand slid around her waist and up her warm flesh. His fingertips brushed over the swollen bud, tweaking her nipple between his fingers eliciting a soft moan from Hermione's mouth. He rolled it between his finger, applying considerably more pressure. She arched her back at the twinge of pain mixed with pleasure, pushing her chest against his.

Her lips had found the tender space between his neck and ear and he heard her breath his name. Another sultry purr erupted from her lips as he rolled her swollen nipple between his fingertips again.

Hermione's back made contact with the cold tile as Draco pushed her to the floor, trapping her wrists under his hands. As he held her down, his tongue swirled over her flesh, nipping and kissing his way across her chest. He released her wrists, his hands trailing down over her abdomen, coming tantalizingly close to her core as he slipped his fingertips under the waistband of her trousers and underwear, sliding them down her legs.

She sat up under him, her dexterous fingertips deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt, sliding it off to reveal his muscular chest. She traced the faded scars on his chest with her fingertips, causing his muscles to tighten beneath her touch.

Draco's fingertips found their way to her sex, brushing past her clitoris and slipping beneath her folds. Her fingernails dug into his flesh as her body shuddered with a primal moan. Draco watched her face contort with pleasure as he curled and moved his fingers within her. She was panting with short breaths, shocks of pleasure rolling through her core, resting her hand on top of his as his fingers pulsed and pulled within her.

"Draco, I…" He silenced her by roughly pressing his lips to hers, withdrawing his fingers from within her folds, pushing his trousers down his own legs. He wrapped her in his arms and pressed himself slowly into her. He audibly groaned into their kisses as his length sunk into her warm, went abyss. She pulled her fingertips down his back, leaving neat raised red lines.

Their bodies moved together as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through their bodies. Draco sunk his teeth into her collarbone, sending the beautiful creature below him over the edge. There was something about the way she moaned his name as her core flexed and spasmed around him that sent him over the edge as well, spilling within her.

They lay together on the sterile white tiled floor, a tangled, sweaty mess. Hermione buried her face in Draco's chest and inhaled him, feeling his fingertips trailing along her spine. He pressed his lips to her forehead. "I'm not giving up on you, Granger."

"Fuck off, Malfoy." She murmured, sighing contentedly against his chest.

….

"Hermione Jean Granger of Number 19 Rosewood Circle, Heathgate, Hampstead, rise before the Wizengamot." Hermione stood up from where she was sitting, keeping Draco's hand firmly in hers, flashing him a smile. "Your case has been reviewed and it is determined, based on the testimony of your Counselor that you are no longer a danger to yourself or others. You are free to go. Your wand will be returned to you as soon as you collect your things for Hohenheim Rehabilitation Center."

Hermione smiled at the Head Warlock, bowing briefly in a gesture of gratitude and practically dragged Draco out of the courtroom. "Granger, what are you…"

"Shut up, Malfoy. Just kiss me." With that, Draco pressed is lips to hers in a tender kiss, cupping her cheek with his palm, his thumb tracing the outline of her jaw. He nuzzled his nose against hers, nipping at her bottom lip. "I'm still not giving up on you, Granger."

"I know." Her lips curled into a seductive smile as she pressed her lips to his, pulling him close.


End file.
